


Sweet and Slow (like Honey)

by sybw



Category: Sorcery of Thorns - Margaret Rogerson
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23408707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sybw/pseuds/sybw
Summary: Winter arrives in Brassbridge and, finally, the river freezes enough for the possibility of skating. Too bad they never make it.
Relationships: Elisabeth Scrivener/Nathaniel Thorn
Comments: 2
Kudos: 55





	Sweet and Slow (like Honey)

**Author's Note:**

> this was nothing except me practicing my writing and hey check it out there is an insane amount of fluff. maybe a bit of angst in like one (1) sentence? so light it doesn't count. 
> 
> pls don't ask why Nathaniel has the grey streak or where silas is. i do not have answers. i wish I did.

Cold gray light filters through the curtains and lights the room. Elisabeth stares out the window into the overcast sky and gently falling snow, still half asleep in her pile of warm blankets. The sounds of Brassbridge in the morning are muffled by the soft powdery snow that had accumulated overnight, but she could still hear the giggles and shrieks of young children playing a few houses over. Curls of steam drift up from the breakfast tray on her bedside table, and for a while, she watches them drift towards the high ceiling, enjoying the peaceful morning. 

The soft tap of footsteps and a cane down the hallway draw Elisabeth out of her doze, and as she turns over, Nathaniel stops in the open doorway.

“Really Elisabeth,” he says, the corners of his mouth tugging up, “still in bed at this hour? Have you been consorting with those grimoires into the early morning again?” His smile grows as he leans against the door frame, his exasperation dimming at the sight of her all bundled up. Elisabeth finds herself distracted by how the light plays with the streak of grey in his hair as she laughs, knowing he could see the evidence of her late-night reading on the table by the window.

“They had so much to share, how could I not spend time with them?” she says, beginning to move and truly wake up. “And anyway,” she says as she stretches her arms above her head “It really is not that late.” She feels the bone-deep satisfaction of tight muscles releasing as her back arches, toes curling with the pleasant feeling. She feels a few joints crack and hums as the tension in her spine releases. 

She props herself up on an elbow, chestnut curls cascading in a magnificent tangle over her shoulder as she slides the strap of her nightgown back up from where it had fallen during the night, before reaching for the fragrant cup of tea on her bedside table. She notices how Nathaniel’s eyes seem to track her every movement, from the soft rise and fall of her chest to the shift of light and shadow over her shoulders as she sits up. 

She knows how awful it had been trapped under the library without knowing if he was okay and she watches him just as much as he watches her. It still feels like if she lets him out of her sight for too long she’ll wake up from a dream and they’ll be trapped under the rubble again, waiting for a rescuer that might not come. She’s even taken to wandering the halls towards his room at night when her mind needs the confirmation he is alright after a particularly bad nightmare. Her smile gentles as she realizes what he is doing, sliding out of bed with her tea to pad over to where he watches her from the doorway. 

“So,” she says as she gets closer, “what’s the plan for today?” She draws near enough for him to slide a hand around her waist and draw her into his arms, letting her head drop to his shoulder. “If I have to suffer through more of Lady Ingram trying to play nice again, I would like some warning," she says as she hides her smile in the junction of his neck and shoulder. "Demonslayer is a pain to hide if I'm not wearing the right dress.” She feels, more than hears, the burst of laughter that explodes from his chest at her remark. 

Her smile sours as she recalls the day before, and how the Ingram’s had invited them over for tea, among others, only for Lord Ingram to commandeer Nathaniel and set his wife upon her. She had weathered all the gossiping old matrons poking and prodding at everything from her height and appetite and her choice of gown to the fact that she owned a sword and uses it regularly. None of them touched on how scandalous they thought it was for two unwed adults to be living together, but Elisabeth felt how much they disdained her relationship with Nathaniel. It didn't help that many of them despised her for ruining their chance at tying their family name to the line of Thorns through their own daughters. Lady Ingram’s husband was still intent on creating some sort of high society alliance with Nathaniel through friendship now that he was no longer an available bachelor, and he had recruited his wife to try and get an in through Elisabeth. “I know she wants nothing to do with me and I can’t say I mind. I just wished we didn’t have to see each other and pretend to get along” 

Nathaniel caught the frustration that passes over her face and she jolts a bit at the feeling of his lips pressed to her temple. “No my dear Scrivener, I am not abandoning you to the wolves today.” His voice, rich with amusement washes over her pleasantly and she feels the building tension release, “It snowed last night. I thought, if you were interested, we might try skating on the river again tonight.” 

“I would love to,” she says, her breath washing across the exposed skin of Nathaniel’s collar bone. Elisabeth presses a kiss to his shoulder, feeling the hard muscles underneath shift as Nathaniel sweeps his knuckles down her spine from her waist to her hip. His calloused fingers brush against the satin of her shift, holding her gently as she leans even further into him. She looks up just in time to catch his sweet smile as his thumb begins to trace circles on her hip. Elisabeth sighs as she drinks her tea in the quiet of the manor against the man she loves, feeling no urge to move. Nathaniel must be of the same opinion because he makes no move to dislodge her. Instead, they lean on the doorframe together and enjoy the peace of the morning. 

She would have been content to rest there longer, but Nathaniel’s knee was still healing and standing for long periods tended to result in it giving out at the most inopportune times. Pulling away from him proves difficult, but with a smile and gentle tug on his wrist, Elisabeth leads him to the bench set into the large windows of her room. Her empty cup is set on the grimoire laden table as they pass, and she runs her fingers down the cover of the closest one. Smooth leather and chilly metal bindings shiver under her passing fingers, and the book gives a sleepy shift, before grumbling and going silent again. 

Nathaniel sits against the wall, letting his injured leg stretch out along the back of the bench before reaching for Elisabeth and tugging her down into his lap. She leans on his solid chest, secure in his embrace, and they watch people walk past. Families stroll through the streets of Hemlock Park, skates slung over their shoulders and children running along throwing snowballs at each other, while sweethearts stroll arm in arm along the snow-covered walkways. Soon the glow of the bonfires will wash the city in orange and red, and the rich smell of roasted chestnuts will permeate the air, but until then Nathaniel and Elisabeth laze about the manor.

Eventually, they leave Elisabeth’s room and end up in the study. She returns the grimoires to their proper shelves as Nathaniel putters around in the background, fiddling with his collection of delicate-looking glass instruments and sorting through the papers covering his desk. Elisabeth curls up in a chair that isn’t covered in a mountain of loose paper, engrossed in a grimoire that seemed to really want to show her something. She’s drawn back to reality by the feeling of being watched and discovers that once again Nathaniel’s staring at her with the softest expression she’s ever seen. 

“Is there something I can do for you?” she says, tucking strands of hair that have fallen into her face behind her ear with a smile. 

“I was just admiring your singular ability to completely ignore the world around you when you read, Elisabeth.” Nathaniel ambles over, still looking at her like she’s hung the moon and stars in the night sky. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone else who can ignore someone calling their name a half a dozen times when they’re the only people in the room.” He stops before her and reaches down to run his fingers through the section of hair she’d just swept out of her face. “It’s quite charming,” he says as he leans in and presses their mouths together. 

No matter how many times they kiss, each one steals Elisabeth’s breath just like the first time. This time Nathaniel kisses her slow and sweet, like honey dripping from a spoon and slowly steals away her breath until she’s left gasping when they finally break. She pushes Nathaniel back with a smile, then turns to direct him into the chair with a gentle shove, before placing the grimoire from her lap onto a slightly less precarious-looking stack of paper. Nathaniel takes all of it in with nothing but a smirk and quirked brow, before promptly forgetting all of his teasing smugness when Elisabeth drops into his lap and cups his face in her hands, then pulls him into a soul-crushing kiss. 

They never do make it down to the river to skate that day.


End file.
